GM Fanguar's Savage Tide (Inactive)

Game Master Fanguar

Sense Motive on Graythan's attitude: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 1 = 11

Justified seems oblivious to Graythan's disdain and judgmental attitude.

An attendant gives a quick tour. The Physical perfection room proved to be a large gymnasium with several personal trainers a number of well-to-do citizens performing their daily exercises. A door at the rear of the hall leads out into the bathhouse's private garden. The vanity room is filled with massage tables, mirrors and chairs. Savarend sees his beard stylist at work on another very dignified dwarf. It is enough to bring a tear to the eye. Lastly the relaxation room holds a large communal bathing pool with gentle columns of steam rising from four hanging braziers of heated rocks that have measured drips of water falling upon them. A trio of attractive yougn women lounge poolside. A door at the back of this room has a sign reading "Mud room temporarily closed. Sorry for the inconvenience." Map revealed.

Savarend makes his way to the communal bathing pool, neatly folding his robe in a pile and entering the waters wearing only his small-clothes. He dunks his head and stays underwater for several seconds before emerging in a spray. "Ahhhh!" He rubs his face and beard, massaging the warm water into his skin. "I'm just going to soak and freshen up until the beard stylist is available. Wouldn't want to spoil the experience with dirt and grime!"

Graythan nods at the others as the tour concludes. Afterward, he opts to slip into a robe and small clothes. With a glance to Moira, he whispers to the group, "I'll try and distract anyone still in the relaxation room if you care to sneak a look at the door to the mudroom, Moira. I'm assuming it's locked, but that won't hold you up too much, will it?" With that, he then seems to change into a different person entirely before the groups' eyes. His shoulders relax, the stiffness in his neck vanishes, even his gait changes from his normally sharp, quick steps to a more unassuming, languid stride. His stony demeanor melts into an a easy grin as he tousles his hair. "Shall we get to work then?"

Once his companions are situated, he enters the relaxation room ahead of Moira but several minutes behind Savarend and offers a surprisingly charming grin to the ladies in the bath. "Mind if I join you? I could sure use a soak after dealing with the disaster my cousin caused at my uncle's estate. What a tawdry mess!" He baits the hook nearly as well as he's ever done as he slips into the pool, positioning himself so that the girls' backs will be toward the door to the mudroom if they face him. "I'm Alaric, by the way. Very nice to meet you." He offers another disarming grin and then proceeds to entertain his new lady friends and Savarend with the sordid tale of Alaric's cousin Garguin's latest and greatest public embarassment.

Bluff: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (17) + 11 = 28

What's the dress code in the main baths?

Bron enters the baths a moment after Graythan, looks at the mudroom door, shrugs, and tries the door anyway just to see. He tries to affect an attitude of wealthy entitlement, as if he is thinking, "this sign can't possibly apply to me".

@Bron:Effectively bathing suits. It's more of a hot tub/steamroom than a get squeeky clean kind of deal.

The woman Graythan is chatting up is polite, but doesn't even pretend to be interested. Another, seeing Bronwenir try to open the do says, "It's locked. It's not open to the public at the moment."

Did Moira smuggle in Saberhawk? I can't remember.

Justified watches the exchange, but nots nothing unusual. A pity. Do you think we could have a pee? I'd like to see what we have to look forward to. There is a nice tip in it for you...

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 4 = 20

Apologies for the "dead air" on my part. have been out sick with a really bad flu. Just been catching up since the last week. Things have return to somewhat normalcy for me.

Moira did not plan on bringing any rapier or short sword(Saberhawk) under her robe, but she did bring the very first item the group has found....the silver dagger. She has it hidden within her robes among her lock picking tools.
Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (9) + 9 = 18

Perception: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (12) + 13 = 25
Graythan's eyes narrow briefly, cathcing a telltale glint as the woman shifts to address Bronwenir.

Bluff (secret message): 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (18) + 13 = 31
"Why don't you listen to the lady, sir? The mudroom will be open again before too long, I'm sure. In the meantime, I'm sure it's closed to keep people from getting injured."

Savarend briefly watches Graythan to catch his message, then returns to luxuriating in the hot baths. Not so surprising. Security is security, wherever you go. At least here they are more discrete.

Bron raises an eyebrow at Graythan and says to the ladies, "What nonsense. How's an elf supposed to properly hydrate his brimborion? What's wrong with the mud? Did it get dirty?" he says with an intentionally pompous air, just slightly increasing his natural tendency towards arrogance.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (5) + 9 = 14
Moira raises an eyebrow at Graythan's comment.
"Ahhhh OK. So....where do the ladies go?"

Moira, you automatically understand the message since I beat the DC. The sense motive is for the armed ladies to catch on.

Okie dokie
Moira's question is based off of her being the only female in the group. She is not sure as if this is co-ed or separate male and female areas.

After a good soak in the bath, Graythan excuses himself and thanks the ladies for their company even if they were poor conversationalists. Donning a robe, he meanders out into the garden though his skin, much more of it now visibile in the daylight hours than is typical for the man, looks ghostly pale.

As he strolls around, he keeps an eye out for observers in the garden, similar to the ladies stationed in the bath, and looks over the exterior of the building for an alternative way into the mudroom.

He takes sharp mental notes, intent on sharing his observations with the others once he returns to the locker room.

Justified exits the baths as well and goes to dress. He dons his armor and collects his weapons, encouraging his fellows to leave with him.

Moira takes the cue from the others and heads back to the changing room. She dons her armor and then adorns her body with her various weapons. She goes find the others. She takes Saberhawk and, in front of her companions, she whispers to it, "Do you know how to whisper?"

After a luxurious soak, and a vigorous session with the dwarven beard stylist (which is always accompanied by a mug of mead both before and after the session), Savarend heads to the changing area and puts on his freshly laundered clothing. He appears to be 10 years younger, having lost a great deal of dirt and worry from his face.

@Graythan: In the garden there is a door with a sign indicating that the mud room is closed until further notice.

No sentries in the garden like there are in the bath?
I'll also cast detect magic on the door in case it's alarmed or somesuch.

Moira whispers to the sword "Can you direct us where to go."

No sentries, but this is a more substantial door. The door has no auras, but there are several visible beyond it.

Saberhawk doesn't know where to go, but concurs that the mudroom is likely a good bet.

Segang, adjusting his armor and possessions nods to Moira. Open the door. Its time to get to the bottom of this.

Graythan returns to the others and reports on what he's learned of the garden entry. "The door there's considerably more stout, but there aren't any sentries that I could see. Could be our quietest way in, if we can get the door open gently." He raises an eyebrow at the others, curious as to their preference for approach. "I'd prefer giving the garden door a try first, at the very least."

"Ok. You guys make sure the coast is clear. I'll see if I can bypass the lock"

Moira removes her thieving kit, removes the necessary tools and being to manipulate the lock.

Trapfinding: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (1) + 13 = 14 Oh boy. Epic failure if it's trapped.
Picking the lock, Disable Device: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (4) + 12 = 16

Savarend is still dressing.

I thought we were coming back at night?...

That roll isn't going to do it, but If you don't get a critical failure and jam it you should be fine. Just to be clear, we are doing this right now 'in game time'?

I think we're going to the garden right away, in which case Bron would have gotten his gear back.

Justified, fully geared stands next to the door in the garden. Can you open it Moira?

Moira?

Moira stands straight and salutes the big man. She removes her lock picking tools and starts to work.
Trapfinding: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (5) + 13 = 18
Lockpicking: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (19) + 13 = 32

Moira opens the lock with a soft snick.

As far as you know, you are undetected. What's the game plan?

Move in quietly until we meet resistance. Find out what, if anything, is going on in the closed off area. kick ass. Take names.

Seems straight forward enough. Let's roll and find some answers for this sword!

Moira, as usual, will take point and take her time moving beyond the door. She make sure she is quiet when entering.

Savarend dresses quickly and follows behind the other members, very aware that he is as stealthy as a goblin with pots tied to his hands and feet and thrown down a flight of stairs. Which coincidentally is a humorous euphemism from the Lands of Black Ice, but does not translate well into Common.

Graythan nods as Moira slips forward at point. He follows behind, offering a nod of cooperation and readiness to Justified as the two make eye contact.

Bron is shortly behind Moira, his scarves wound around his shoulders and ready to be used.

Sorry for the delay, was out of town for a bit there.

Twin rows of thick marble columns support the high ceiling of this large domed chamber. A coloured mosaic of ceramic tiles accentuates three gurgling pools of warm mud. An artificial fall of crystal-clear water cascades down the east wall, identified by a small plaque as a rinsing station for the mud baths.

You see a gathering of people standing around the centre pool. They don't seem to notice you, but as Moira enters into the room, an imperious, female voice cries out, "I sense the presence of an Oquon. To arms my allies, it must not be allowed to disrupt the ceremony." (Actual magical ability, not DM being a jerk)

Combat Rd 1
24 Graythan
17 Savarend
12 Bron
11 Justified
10 Baddies
5 Moira

Everyone except Moira is up. Map is updated

What the devil is an Oquon? Bron wonders irrelevantly as he darts through the door, pulling out his wand of shield as he moves, and casting the spell on himself.

Also using an arcane pool point to enhance his +1 scarf to a +2 scarf.

Can we get a better description of the people and how they are armed and armored. Are any obviously hostages? And any chance to identify that female voice, or partially pinpoint where it was coming from? Since Justified is last, right before the baddies act I'll post his action in a spoiler below, but reserve the right to revise based on answers to the above info.

Hearing a call to arms, Graythan's eyes narrow as he darts into the room, drawing his crossbow as he moves. Realizing they are vastly outnumbered, he tries to slow their apparent foes as best he might. Eyes glittering eeriely in the interior light, he draws the gaze of one of the figures gathered around the pool and holds it, reinforcing the locked stare with Tyr's power. As his spell finishes, he calls on Tyr a second time, and the Even-handed's blessing is apparent as Graythan's armor begins to faintly glow.

Move Action: move 6 squares to the left (can't update map from phone)
Standard Action: cast hold person, targeting one of the seeming leaders arrayed along the right-most wall (if any look particularly brutish or martially oriented, that'd be my preferential target)
Swift Action: activate Judgement (Protection)
hold person, Will Save DC 16

I moved you. Let me know if that works.

It does! Thanks =)

Savarend hustles over to Bronwenir and reaches out to touch his weapon, invoking a brief prayer to Moradin.

Bronwenir, you get magic weapon on your weapon of choice, a +1 enhancement bonus on attack and damage rolls.

Er, he already is holding a +2 weapon …

Yup. (added some colour to the make to ease differentiation.) The red token is a half-elf in robes with a fabulous rapier at his hip. The blues that flank him appear to be armed guards, one has an odd blue rod at his hip, while the other has a black hilted short sword. The remaining folks appear to be commoners.

Silverhawk snarls, "Ah ha Valora! I knew I could smell your foul Cabanite stink. My allies shall make short work of this rabble."

Valora. Should we know that name?

When Saravend starts to cast his spell, Bron mutters, "My scarf is already enhanced, but I think Moira's blade could use a blessing from your lord."

@Bron: nope. Also, Moira is wielding Saberhawk at the moment. Speaking of which.

The woman's voice calls out again, apparently from the rapier at the half-elf's side, "I see that the tin sparrow has decided to try its luck once again. Haven't tasted failure enough today?" To you all, "I don't know what this Oquon filth has been telling you, but it and its ilk want nothing more than to rule Sassarine with an iron fist. Cast him in the mud with this fellow conspirator and help the Cabanites win this war."

@Graythan: The man with the rapier is obviously the 'leader', but those to either side are much more martial, equally. Do you have a preference?

Saberhawk snarls at the insult, "Cabanite lies! Hurry, we must rout them quickly."

If I recall, we didn't recognize the name Cabanite the first time Saberhawk mentioned it. I assume we don't recognize Oquon either?

knowledge(local): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16